Relish
by SilverontheRose
Summary: A collection of stories based off of songs from the Joan Osborne CD Relish. No blocks of lyrics, actual stories. Not for underaged readers. Rated for adult situations, adult themes, violence, sex, language. Mature, over 18, readers only. OOC behavior in some instances. Track 5: Dracula Moon. Kagome and Steve break up, and Shippou's there to catch her as she falls from grace.
1. Track 1: St Teresa

Last warning. This is not meant for underage readers. Human trafficking, theft, sex, and drug use are themes in this oneshot. Adult!Shippou/Kagome, Natasha/Clint pairings. Each section is 500 words.

.

.

.

St. Teresa

* * *

Natasha worried over the intelligence that had come to her unexpectedly. After so many years of wondering about and searching for the woman who sold her into Drakov's spy program, she didn't know exactly what she wanted to do with her now she'd been found again. She had the strangest feeling that she shouldn't do anything with the information, which was completely unlike her and made her wonder if she'd been programmed not to look for her.

The conundrum bothered her, and the change in her demeanor alerted Fury and her teammates that something was wrong, though she firmly told Fury it was personal when he asked. Unfortunately for her, the Director didn't believe in his people having a personal life separate from their work, and assigned Hawkeye to discover and solve the issue.

Clint sighed. He had too much respect for her to sneak around, so he asked her outright- including telling her about Fury's directive. Her response was exactly what he thought it would be, and he admired her facility with languages as she verbally trounced them all.

Creatively cursing out Fury in eight languages, she dumped her laundry on the bed and stared at her companion. "Fine. You can tell him and the other nosy old men I was nervous about meeting an old acquaintance, and there's nothing you can do to 'solve' it. Mission completed."

"Natasha," he started, mashing his fingers into his temples to quell the ache starting. "I have absolutely no intention of telling anyone about your personal business. But I'm worried about you. You have too many enemies to be as distracted as you have been."

_Damn that he was right._ She snapped a shirt and folded it, steaming over Fury's high-handedness the whole time. "A little bird told me that St. Teresa's been seen in a ghetto called the Hollows. I just haven't decided what I wanted to do with the information." She shrugged and went back to folding her laundry, ignoring the shocked, indrawn breath beside her.

"The woman who sold you to Dracov? And you've not chased her down?" Clint sat down in a chair and watched her, trying to figure out why she wasn't going after the woman.

"It's a little more complicated than that." She fiddled with the next shirt, fussing over the folds before looking back over to him. "Did you know she warned me about what she was going to do if I stayed with her? I knew that if I decided to keep following her, she would own me and do whatever she wished with me. But what I can't remember is why I was alright with that. In fact, I hardly remember any details of living with her, and I was with them for months."

"Them? There were more living with her?" Clint considered things a moment before beckoning her to sit beside him. "Tell me about her and what you remember of life there. Maybe that will help you decide what to do."

~oOo~

"I remember how beautiful she was; pale skin, hair as dark as the hash she smoked. She was definitely Japanese, but had odd bright blue eyes... now that I think about it, almost that vivid blue of the tesseract. She'd sit on a street corner, and kids would pass her things. Stolen stuff, occasionally a flower or trinket. If they'd scored cash, she'd send them for a dime. Always from the same dealer, too."

Her brow furrowed. "I didn't remember that till now. One kid got lazy and bought from someone else, and the next time I saw him he was in bad shape. He'd been beaten by the dealer, something about her blend being special. Of course this happened later on, after I had joined them. Street kids learn fast not to see things that are another's business.

"I hadn't been on her streets for very long, no more than a couple of weeks, when she had me brought to her. She didn't say anything, just stared at me through the smoke of her hash pipe until I was dizzy, then asked me what I saw. I know we talked for a long time, but the drug made me hazy and I don't remember any of it, just waking up in a trashy tenement later.

"She and the dealer were having sex, but no one paid any attention to them, so I didn't either. I soon found out it was a regular occurrence." She frowned. "Actually, _everyone_ there seemed to be happier afterwards, as strange as that sounds. Not everyone called her St. Teresa, some called her Matron. Those that called her that were always the happiest; they'd say 'a happy matriarch is a happy clan'."

"That's... odd." Clint's stomach turned, acid eating at it. All he could think was _sick fucks._

Natasha caught the sharpness of his voice. "It didn't seem so odd at the time, and we never actually _saw_ anything," she said, shrugging. "...they were under blankets. Anyway, one day she called me to her, telling me every man would see me like she did. I didn't understand what she meant, but all she'd add was that if I stayed with them, she would own me.

"A few days later, I went outside with her and down a side street. She was smoking again, but it smelt different... I fell asleep and woke in Dracov's program."

She swallowed, suddenly uncomfortable. She'd never spoken of her time with St. Teresa before.

"Why do you call her St. Teresa? It's a strange name for a human trafficker." He sat still and quiet, sensing her unease and not wanting her to suddenly clam up.

She threw her hands up slightly, palm up in a gesture that plainly meant _I don't know_. "Everyone she took in called her that. But Teresa's the saint of headache-sufferers."

"That doesn't make sense if she sold street kids..."

"I know... I guess if I want to figure everything out, I'll have to see her."

~oOo~

The Hollows was a dreary, hopeless place where misery saturated the air. Hawkeye was on full alert as he and Natasha traveled further into the neighborhood. The human rats looking them over quickly sensed his killing intent, and slid back into the shadows.

Just ahead, a small woman wrapped in shawls was sitting on a street corner. As they watched, a kid came up and gave her something and she patted his head before he ran off.

"St. Teresa," Natasha whispered. She walked faster, long legs eating up the distance.

Hawkeye cursed and hurried after her, his sharp vision picking out three toughs inconspicuously guarding the woman. One of them looked directly at him and nodded a greeting, a sly curve to his mouth. Not in the least reassured, he moved to catch up with her.

"St. Teresa," she said right before she got a good look at the woman. "No, you can't be." The woman in front of her looked exactly the same as St. Teresa did in her memories... twenty-five year old memories.

"Ah, the little Russian girl with the rough fate. I see you met your match, good. The gods looked kindly on my interference." She considered the spy's livid face for a moment. "You're a strong woman to have thrown off the memory spell this much. Ma, ma, you truly hate me, don't you?"

"You sold me to an utter bastard." Natasha growled out.

The woman in front of her just nodded. "That I did. Not the kindest road, but the best one that prepared you for him." She pointed her pipe towards Hawkeye, laughing when he glared at her.

"What do you mean? Not the kindest road? You sold me to a sadistic ass. That was the best road? Bullshit." Natasha was furious.

"Child, use that extraordinary mind of yours. What do you see when you look at me?" Her eyes glowed supernaturally blue.

"You look exactly like you do in my memories. The drugs..." Something clicked in her head, "You knew things before they happened... there were kids who weren't kids..."

Laughter bubbled from the woman. "Of course I knew things. I'm a seer of sorts, though you'll reject that possibility. Your childish face was so very innocent and pure- many wanted to take you, control you, defile you... most of your roads lead to prostitution and early death. I usually send children home with an attitude adjustment or send them to someone who will appreciate them. But fate despised you immensely, so I ruined your childhood so you could have happiness as an adult. Was I wrong?"

Confusion reigned in Natasha's head. "What are you? Why am I suddenly remembering tails and feet that weren't feet? Blue fire that warmed without burning?"

A man suddenly appeared at the so-called saint's side. She patted his hand and pulled out a wallet. "The sweet stuff, Takeo. And tell Hanabi we've visitors. If you both wish to know?" Wise eyes captured the marksman, and he nodded.

~oOo~

They walked into an apartment much like the one Natasha remembered in Russia. A young pregnant woman came up to them, uncapping the jar she was holding. The blue-eyed woman looked back to her visitors. "Close your eyes and let Hanabi-chan put the ointment on them. 'Tis easier than playing with the spellwork."

Clint worried at how easily Natasha allowed it, as she was normally suspicious. But she moved differently and looked at empty places afterwards, so he unhappily submitted. When he opened his eyes again, the trashy tenement was gone and he was in a large clean room filled with priceless treasures.

He was taken aback when he saw the pregnant woman's fox ears. Teresa laughed delightedly. "Yes, hunter. You've walked into a den of foxes. That's my oldest daughter, we call her Hanabi- fire flower- because she's the best among us with fireworks.

Natasha's head hurt as memories spilled over. "I knew about this... but why did I forget?" she mumbled, and winced as her head began to pound.

A cup of tea was placed by her hand. Hanabi smiled kindly. "For your headache. Have you remembered me yet? I got us into the worst trouble..."

Natasha nodded, vague memories clearing a little. She thought for a moment, then said, "Your name is Kagome, not St. Teresa, and your husband is Shippou. He's the dealer and a Japanese fox spirit. You take in children..."

"No. I weed through unwanted children. Don't ascribe kind motives to me, Natasha. I sold you to Drakov knowing what he would do to you. I have killed many children, and sold even more of them into slavery and prostitution."

Natasha frowned, "That sounds... not wrong... but unnecessarily harsh."

"She's right, mother." Hanabi said, putting out a plate of mochi and pouring the tea. "Inari may have forced a fearsome price on you being able to stay with father, but you've never been crueler than necessary. You've made seven children's lives better for every one you've had to ruin."

Clint sniffed his tea suspiciously. "So you take in children, check their future, and deal with them accordingly?"

Kagome nodded. "I take the children, Shippou the adults. Kitsune cannot hurt a child, it's completely against their instincts, but adults have chosen their paths and so are accountable. The division has worked for us over half a millennium."

He almost choked on his mochi.

Takeo came in, bowing to Kagome and offering her a baggie. "Matron."

"Thank you, Takeo." She caught the curiosity of the humans. "There is a price for everything, children. If I did not pay for the herbs to open the spirit eye, the price for visions would be astronomical."

"I remembered hash..."

"Illusion." She pulled out a long, thin pipe and stuffed it, puffing for a long while until the humans succumbed to the drug. She quietly snuffed the pipe. "Hanabi, this headache's loyal to the government. Have Takeo do a full memory block. She broke the old one so easily..."

~oOo~

The Hollows was a dreary, hopeless place where misery saturated the air. Hawkeye was on full alert as he and Natasha traveled further into the neighborhood. As the human rats slid back into the shadows, Hawkeye shivered with a sense of deja vu.

Just ahead, a small woman wrapped in shawls was sitting on a street corner. As they watched, a kid came up and gave her something and she patted his head before he ran off.

"St. Teresa," Natasha whispered. She walked faster, long legs eating up the distance.

Hawkeye cursed and hurried after her, his sharp vision picking out three toughs inconspicuously guarding the woman. One of them looked directly at him and laughed, waving as if he knew him.

"St. Teresa," Natasha called out to the old woman who was rocking back and forth as she smoked a pipe. The heavy, sweet smell of some opiate saturated her clothing.

"Ah, a little Russian girl. With a face that pretty, I bet men all want to fuck you. She considered the spy's livid face for a moment. "You're a strong woman, I'd fuck you too."

"You fucked me when you sold me to an utter bastard." Natasha growled out.

The woman in front of her just nodded. "Ma, ma, you truly hate me, don't you? When'd I sell you? 'Cause it don't look like he's near satisfied with you yet." She pointed her pipe towards Hawkeye, laughing when he glared at her.

"This is bullshit." Natasha was furious.

"No bulls around here, though that one beside you may be hung like one." Her eyes glowed supernaturally blue. "Only foxes 'round here. Girl pretty as you best take care, or you'll find one slipping in your chickenhouse and eating it out."

"Filthy old bitch." Something clicked in her head, "You're higher than the moon."

Laughter bubbled from the woman. "Of course I am. I'm a seer of sorts, I make my money, got to get my dime. Your face is so very innocent and pure- if you'd follow me down that sidestreet, I could find many wanting to take you, control you, defile you... you'd make a killing as a whore unless fate despises you immensely."

A man appeared at the so-called saint's side. She patted his hand, taking her wallet and baggie. "Thanks. Just what I've been needing." She began to pack the pipe, querulously saying. "The power to see the future. Feel it rise in me, child!

"You foolish old woman, there's no such thing as seers. Next you'll be saying you're caught up in the sky, like the saint you call yourself."

"You mean caught up in the clouds."

Natasha snarled and stalked off, Clint hurrying after her. "Show me your Teresa you said-"

Shippou came up behind Kagome and rested a hand on her. "The new stone caught all her memories of us?"

She nodded, fingering the chain of stones, feeling the warmth of the stolen memories in each bead. Every stone a story, like a rosary.

* * *

.

.

.

_Relish_ is a 1995 CD by Joan Osborne, folk rock style music. It is heavy hitting if you're like me and really pay attention to the themes. I've wanted to do a series of stories for it a long time, but its only with the Avenger/Inuyasha crossover that I really felt I could spin the tales.

Kitsune are known for passing judgment on people, and dealing them accordingly. I wanted to play with that theme.

Thieves? Sesshoumaru routinely sends Rin to steal from farmer's fields. It is a case of 'you can only own what you can hold'."

The part about sex in the second scene- For centuries on end people have lived in one room houses and had lots of kids. I guarantee you, they didn't sneak out to the barn to save the kid's sensibilities.

I've never really followed American comics, so I only know that Natasha was trained in a Russian program. Loki called her Drakov's daughter, so I made my own background for her.

Dozens of people die from choking on mochi every year, mostly children and the elderly. Watch what you're eating, Clint.


	2. Track 2: The Man In The Long Black Coat

Last warning. This is not meant for underage readers. Illegal distilleries, grifting, and murder are themes in this oneshot. Fury/Kagome pairing. Character Deaths. Each section is 500 words.

.

.

.

_The Man In the Long Black Coat_

* * *

Nick Fury sat at a table nursing a beer in a run down, half dead Louisiana bayou town. Out on the dance floor old people shuffled through steps they'd learned fifty years earlier, while a group of twenty-somethings flirted and spun on their own section of sawdust sprinkled concrete. The dance hall was on it's last legs, much like the town, and he wondered why she'd moved to such a piss poor place.

No one would answer any questions about her, and it was made clear that further questions would have him feeding the swamp critters, so he'd resigned himself to staying in the dilapidated motel just up the road from this establishment.

Even if she shunned company these days, surely she'd hear about the stranger asking for her. Three days had passed, three days he really didn't have free now that Coulson was gone; as soon as his leave was up he'd have to report back, Kagome or no Kagome.

He took another pull at his beer, the lukewarm liquid odd-tasting to him. It was homemade stuff, heavy on local hops. He'd seen the vines behind several houses, along with a couple of half-hidden stills. In fact, he had a few quart jars of their moonshine carefully packed in an aluminum case. Maybe it'd shut Thor up about the quality of drink available, for one night anyways.

A small, delicate-seeming hand put a shot of amber-gold liquor in front of him and he turned, meeting a pair of mild gray eyes that had haunted his sleep for years. Thinking it a dare, he tossed the liquor back, forgetting how to breathe as it seared down his throat with more paint-stripping agony than Everclear.

"Idiot. It wasn't a challenge, you were supposed to tump it in the beer. Want to dance?"

His breath caught. He'd convinced himself that her was imagining how beautiful she was but, if anything, his imagination paled against real life. But he couldn't show her that, couldn't ask her to come back to them if he trapped her with adoration. So he stared her down before speaking to her, poker-faced and cool voiced, quoting Matthew 6:22. "'The eye is the lamp of the body. If your eyes are good, your whole body will be full of light.' I've lost my good eye, Kagome. I cannot function alone. Do I have to be lost in darkness without my heart as well?"

She took in the changes, the exhaustion and grief, the lines on his face engraved there by his job, and she gave him the only response she could._ No matter how_ _Shippou feels about him..._ "I gave you my heart long ago, Nick. You've yet to give it back these long years." She headed for the door, the thin worn cotton of her old-fashioned maxi dress clinging to her curves in the heat. He tossed the rest of the beer back and followed her out.

Fifteen minutes later they were on the way to the helicarrier.

~oOo~

The tall, lean-muscled male got out of the car, anger simmering as he surveyed the abandoned house. The trees he had nurtured for decades were bent over, broken and dying thanks to the last hurricane that had come through. He wandered into the overgrown yard, crickets falling silent at his passing; weeds and overgrowth giving way before him. Something fluttered at the side of the house, catching his attention. One of her old-fashioned country dresses still hung on the line there, though now it was hardly more than a rag thanks to storm and sun.

Going up on the porch, he ducked through one of the many open windows. At least the spells here kept the house sound, if not safe from wildlife. He tossed a coon and her kits out a window, chest rumbling with a growl. There was nothing, no voicemail, no note telling where she was, just two months of silence.

He headed back out to the car, the illusion around him shimmering as it changed him into an old, mostly bald priest. His clothes shifted into a black broadcloth suit; a blindingly white celluloid roman collar finishing the look. Two leaves pulled from the dead banyon, and he held a Bible and rosary...

The hunt was on.

The folks in town were happy to talk to an elderly priest about his missing great-niece. After all, her disappearance gave them something to talk about for weeks. A colored man in a long black coat hanging around the old dance hall, an overheard Bible verse, and suddenly the sweet young woman with healing hands was gone, not a word or forwarding address left with anyone.

Shippou shook his head, the very picture of suffering. "My niece... how many times did I tell her that every man's conscience is vile, depraved. You elders of the town know this, have come to understand it as you've aged and learned to understand the spiritual side of life. The yearning body is a thing of youth, and youth cannot depend on its conscience for guidance when it is instinct and desire, and not the Lord's will, that keeps it satisfied. I only pray I find her safe."

They all agreed with him, and wished him well on his search. When he got into his car, they even pressed a love offering in his hand. He blessed them solemnly, the thankful look on his face morphing into a smirk as he put the town behind him and his illusion shimmered back to his red-haired, green-eyed self.

So, Fury thought to take up with Kagome again, even after his warning. He ignored the way her voluntary exit with him put a lump in his throat... she wouldn't have left the house he'd put her in if not for Fury, so the fault lay with the human bastard. He'd warned him off fifteen years ago, now he'd show the S.H.I.E.L.D. director exactly why it was stupid to interfere with a youkai and what was his.

~oOo~

Six months later a pale man walked through a yard almost fully reclaimed by the swamp. Alligators splashed into the water, millennium-old instincts telling them a bigger predator was hunting among them. They drew back, but lounged around the periphery of the hunting ground, not adverse to a potential windfall.

Mist lingered over the water like smoke, giving an eerie air to the half-burned structure canted crazily over a patch of moss clogged water. Vines worked their way through cracks and along boards, greedily reclaiming what had been enspelled away from them so long. The whole area was silent, even the cicadas refusing to trill in the maddened, disturbed aura surrounding the place

Not a tree was left standing; all around the house they were uprooted and clawed to splinters, signs of a youkai gone mad to any who knew of them. Sesshoumaru lifted his head, catching the acrid scent of fox. The moonlight was kind to the daiyoukai, illuminating him with ethereal beauty and matching his crescent with her own, high in the sky.

As though the assassin was recognized in that singular moment, pulses of insane jyaki suddenly began battering at him, vibrating his very bones. He snarled at the challenger, and unleashed the rumbling force that was _his_ jyaki, his cold, controlled killing intent.

No more would he put up with the fox's loss of control. He would regain his sanity or die this night. The miko was dead, it was the fox that killed her. That should have been the end of it. He didn't give a damn either way about it, and would have ignored the whole mess, but the stupid fox kept beating a dead horse.

He walked around the corner, staring down the snarling four-tailed monster who was risking their existence with his unconcealed transformation. The daiyoukai lashed out with his whip, slicing deeply; clipping a vein if the amount of blood now turning the green water brown was any indication. Crimson eyes focused on him, a snarl splattering blood around.

His icy wit claimed the next hit. "Foolish fox. There are no mistakes in life. You killed her. You are youkai, if you kill, it is for a reason." He beat at the enormous furred muzzle several more times, as Shippou snapped at him.

"I _will_ kill you, no matter the scarcity of our kind. She was just a human. They don't live or die, they just float back and forth from that wheel they are so fond of. If you want her, catch her early next time, before she meets him. It's the only way you'll ever get to keep her." Disgusted, he turned his back on the miserable wretch and left.

Shippou whined at the sting of acid and itch of healing wounds. He flashed back to his humanoid form, abruptly sitting in the grass and keening. _She's gone. She's gone with him again because I stupidly killed them both..._

_She's gone with the man in the long black coat._

* * *

.

.

.

There are lots of stories about kitsune pretending to be monks, or tormenting monks. Move it to the South, and you'll have them mocking priests.


	3. Track 3: Right Hand Man

Last warning. This is not meant for underage readers. Sex, slavery, mild torture are themes in this oneshot. Phil/Kagome pairing. Character Death, romantics shouldn't read the last section. Each section is 500 words.

.

.

.

_Right Hand Man_

* * *

A burst of delighted laughter broke from the woman below him, as she blindly reached for the chair behind her to stabilize herself. "Harder, Phil. Please!" she begged. Her partner complied, bending himself to her pleasure with a will. Her muscles flexed, keeping her head from impacting the chair as he pumped in and out of her hard and fast, sending her breasts bouncing with each impact.

They ignored the rhythmic knock of the chairback against the wall, telegraphing to everyone in hearing distance what was happening in Agent Coulson's room. By now everyone should know what to expect of Phil and his vixen, even if they couldn't believe it. She especially got a kick at how the men on board ship looked at Phil like he was a god now.

This fifth time just wasn't going to last... they were too primed. Her channel clenched tight around him, making him grunt as his eyes rolled back in pleasure while she shouted out her completion, ripping his control to shreds. He leapt over the edge with her, coming hard and collapsing on her. Giving her one last deep kiss, he rolled to the side, gathering her in his arms. They lay there, satisfied for the moment, and he pressed his lips to her neck, having no words for this moment.

"You are amazing, Phil. I am so lucky Fury didn't know what he gave me." She reveled in both her hungers being fully satiated, and basked in the afterglow until the alarm went off on her phone. She groaned at the interruption. "Lunch break's over." She looked over her shoulder at him, big eyes pleading with him. "Can we stay like this all day? Forget Fury, we'll tell him we had to go to a christening."

Phil kissed her again, knowing his duty and the importance of it, even if he'd much rather spend the day wrapped up in her. "What's left to christen here? We've done the floor, the couch got it twice, and the bed... uhmm..." He moaned as she reached down and began caressing him again. He returned the favor by toying with a dark nipple as her touch brought that part of him to life once more.

"And the chair," she reminded him, squirming as heat flashed from her breasts to her weeping, ready channel, nerves over-stimulated by their excesses. "One last time before I get ready for my meeting." She whispered an invigoration spell as she turned in his arms. He attacked her neck and mouth as it took hold and erased their exhaustion.

He traced the inside edges of her lips with his tongue, smiling at her whine. "Only one more time, any more than that and Nick's going to separate us. And vixen of mine, if we're not moving this to a softer place, you're going to be on top." The wicked look that crossed her face was one of his favorites, promising a good time was about to be had by all.

~oOo~

Kagome washed up in the bathroom, grimacing when she ran her tongue over her teeth. _Best not to go out with cum breath_. She raised her voice to carry her question through the door to him. "Lemme use your toothbrush?"

He poked his head in, smiling at the half-naked picture she made, standing there in a short skirt and rucked around thigh-highs, her perky breasts topped with tightly furled nipples thanks to the chill in the room. "You'd make a gorgeous pin-up, dressed like that. Use what you need. Hurry, though. Natasha's coming back with Bruce today; all the Avengers will be gathered. Don't be late... you know how Nick will get."

She did know how Nick would get. He wasn't happy his 'eye' was enspelled more deeply than Fury had thought he'd be. He'd not known about a kitsune's ability to make a human devoted to them. She went to fix her stockings, only to find a run, so she pulled them off and tossed them. She picked up her silk shirt, smirking at the state it was in. Most of the buttons were gone, ripped off in their haste, and there were certain stains...

_Oh well, lover's privilege_. She went to his closet and began looking through it, wearing nothing but her short skirt and a smile. "Have you got a clean shirt, Cap'n? Mine didn't survive that 'rescue mission'." She grinned, wondering how red Steve would get if he learned of their little role-playing sessions.

Phil came in, tossing her panties to her and pulling out a thin white dress shirt. _Oh boy, seems like somebody's_ _feeling like bragging._ She pulled it on, the soft rasp of cotton against her over-sensitized breasts bringing her back to a ready and willing state. She looked down, a sly smile flitting across her face as she was proved right... dark coral was visible through the material. "You're going to drive Stark nuts, dressing me like this."

"You don't mind do you? Being part of my payback?" he pulled her close, running fingers through her thick black hair then reaching down to grasp her rear and pull her up his body.

She looped her arms around him and gazed into his eyes, her gray ones sparkling with mischief. "I'm much too fox-natured to mind that. Want me to tease him? Brag on your prowess?" She rubbed her face against him, deeply breathing in his scent.

"It'll be enough of a tease, knowing you're mine. He's never been upstaged by a boring man before."

She slapped his arm. "He's an idiot then, not able to see past that facade to the brilliant, wily mind behind it. They all are, and now you're all mine." She looked at him seriously. "I mean that. You're mine until you die. I won't give you back, even if they discover what a brilliant soul you are." She kissed him hard, a brand of possession, then shoved her panties into her purse and ran for her meeting.

~oOo~

Crossing the helicarrier, she murmured a couple of words that glamored away her more unusual traits, and blessed the cool breeze on her pantyless self. Her supposedly mild-mannered S.H.I.E.L.D. agent was a demon in bed... and against a wall, over the back of the couch, tied up on the coffee table..." Her grin got wider and wider. She ignored the whistles and catcalls... anyone who saw the look on her face and the sassy way she walked knew exactly what she'd been up to.

She saw Natasha and someone she hadn't met, meaning he must be Bruce Banner. Poor guy, with a name like that, his parents were just begging for him to have a strange fate. She waved as she passed by, Natasha wolf-whistling good naturedly. Bruce looked uncomfortable, so she decided to tweak him.

"Darling love. Have you brought me a new toy?" She wrapped her arms around Natasha and kissed her neck.

"Down, Vixen. This is Bruce Banner, he's the physicist that's going to help us find the tesseract."

Bruce looked at her and said the saddest words she'd heard, "You'll want to think twice about playing with me. Its not the safest thing to do."

She could feel the anger, self-hatred, and despair he lived with, and dropped the flirting. "Actually, I could be the answer to your prayers, literally. Only a god could undo what you've done to yourself, and I'm not talking about aliens from Asgard. Do some research on Inari, and then come to me."

She left, sashaying unconcernedly to the meeting she was now late for. _Poor guy, hope he takes my advice. Now for a spot of boredom in my day..._ She opened the door, and happily watched Fury turn several shades darker as he took in what she was -not- wearing. With satisfied glee, she cocked her head and innocently said, "Director Fury. You seem _happy_ to see me."

He changed colors again. "Lady Vixen, you know there's a dress code."

She looked down. "White shirt, dark skirt. Dress code covered." Her eyes twinkled merrily. "And besides, we're still waiting for the others."

"I cannot believe you're a priestess," he grumbled, half under his breath. "You have no shoes on, and you are" he waved a hand towards her torso, "not... properly concealed."

"I cannot believe you didn't ask what god I'm with. Inari-sama is a harvest god. All harvest gods have an interest in fertility," she rejoined, leaning back in her chair in a way that pulled Phil's shirt tight across her chest. "I'm not breaking any laws, including decency- which was the clause _you_ insisted on."

Her voice deepened as she became serious. "You cannot cage me further without repercussions _you will not like_. Try, and you'll get a reminder of why you wanted me here." Her eyes were reddened and voice barely more than a growl by the end of her words, a reminder to the man in front of her she was something other than human.

~oOo~

When Phil and Tony entered the bridge after Loki's apprehension, she almost jumped him in front of them all. Thankfully he came straight to her, and she stretched her arms backwards to hold him as he stood behind her chair. A sly grin split her face when all the men stopped talking; Tony staring at her breasts, the Captain blushing, Bruce's eyebrow shooting up and Thor regarding her carefully. Natasha congratulated her on silencing them with one movement.

"Inari-sama was particularly thrilled with his success in my training," she darkly joked.

She was in her quarters later that day when the bombs went off and it took a while to clear a path out. She arrived at Phil's side just as the medics got there, but death already had him in its grasp. Infuriated, she went after the Jötun.

Tracking him by bloodscent, she chased him down near the breech. "Hello, wannabe godling. Do you know what I am?"

"Priestess," Loki bit out, wondering where she came from. The Vanir had no stake in Earth, did they? "Come to join me?"

"You killed my celebrant, fool. I came to take from your flesh the worth of my right hand, my right hand man, at that." She dropped her illusions and stood there, shining white from her hair and pointed fox ears, to her skin and tail.

He laughed derisively, "A fallen priestess. Didn't anyone tell you? A priestess that becomes a monster has her soul burned eternally!"

She slipped a madness vine seed into his wound as she leaned over him. "But a god is allowed to remake his priestess, fool. _Didn't anyone tell you?_ It's a famous story. Inari said to the mother goddess, "let's gamble." She asked what the wager was. By the end of their game, the loyal miko Amaterasu preferred was lost; sent to be remade into something fit for Inari's halls. You've used foxes yourself... you know how we get when someone steals what's ours."

Truly frightened for once, Loki created an explosion with the staff that blasted them apart. He slipped away, running to his plane. She let him escape, satisfaction in her smile.

Scorning illusions, she tracked down Fury as he tried manipulating the team with bloody cards. "Humans are so crass. I wonder... what would you do to feel somebody want you the way Phil wanted me?" She laughed at the warning and fear in his eyes. "Loki is... _somewhere._ Drooling, bound in nightmares, per contract. Who are you giving to me next?"

"What contract? With who?" Bruce and Steve demanded.

"That's confidential." Fury snapped.

"Fury _gave_ Phil to a... er...?" Tony gestured to her ears and tail.

"-To a kitsune, a priestess of Inari. I am to be provided a food source in this realm, Fury's treat, for my cooperation. My beloved Phil is gone, and so I require another if I am to stay here and hunt. If he can't fix it," she shrugged, "...gonna find a boy who can."

* * *

.

.

.

The Vanir are a rival pantheon on Yggdrasil.

Hitomiko told Kagome the fate of a miko who becomes a youkai. That's pure canon.

I gave kitsune the ability to harvest sexual energy; I've found no basis for it in legend.

There's a bit of YYH in there. It crosses over so well...


	4. Track 4: Pensacola

This one is rated teen. 1000 words. Thirty years after the Manhattan Invasion, the worlds are at peace. The cost for peace was a simple marital alliance. But as they say, revenge is a dish best served cold. Loki/Kagome, mention of Thor/Kagome and Inuyasha/Kagome. Character death, poverty, mild insanity.

.

.

.

Pensacola

* * *

Pensacola, Florida

June 6, 2043

Kagome stood on the sandy beach, looking out into the crowded harbor. The stench of heat and ocean refuse burned her nose, and she damned the Director for sending her here. Sand filling her pumps with each step, she walked up to a ramshackle trailer who's best days were long past. The way he lived tore at her. _Though I wouldn't call it living..._

The door opened, and Loki stood there, staring out into the bay before tossing a bag to the side of the door. She took another step forward, and he squinted at her backlit form. "If you've come to take the car away, I don't have it anymore."

"Hey Loki, it's me." Seeing the unwashed, unkept former god like this was a misery, though for his pride she wouldn't show it. She wished she dared to get closer to him, to lay her hand on that stubbled cheek, but this was business.

"The miko," he sneered. "Come to check up on the menace? Then come in. I'm not about to stand in the glare for you." He turned, disappearing into the darkness inside.

A radio program was blaring out a hellfire and brimstone sermon, exhorting sinners to change their ways before they were cast into the depths of hell. Her eyes flicked over to the television, where a preacher spoke of the abiding love God had for everyone. Confused about his preoccupation, she almost missed him moving a stack of filmpaper and vid-discs from the chair she guessed she was supposed to sit in. She shivered in revulsion as cockroaches ran.

"Wondering, Ka-go-me?" He barked out a rough, not-entirely-sane laugh. "Discs and transcripts from every religious program I could get my hands on. 'Study to show thyself approved' you know. Its all here if I can just find it, just grasp whatever concept I keep missing."

"What are you looking for, Loki? What could po-"

His eyes lit in unholy glee. "I'm getting right with God! Becoming worthy of his forgiveness! That's what they all promise, you know?" His eyes became calculating, "I think it must be different for the ants. When God is Father and Father is the God you bow to and scrape to, trying live _up_ to his expectations and live _for_ the scraps of words from his mouth that mean you are his pride, then it is so much harder because God loves everybody, but God always turns his face away from his shamed child."

Kagome looked into the face of madness and bled for him and the boy he used to be. She fingered the picture in her pocket, drawing it out and laying it on the table. Her teenage self held the hands of two adorable boys; one gold as the sun, the other dark as night. An irritated hanyou could be seen perched in the tree above them as well, if you knew where to look.

Age and much handling had creased the paper and turned it yellow, but she clearly remembered the day a god had stopped their shard hunting group and left his sons in their care while he searched for a crow demon. She thought watching a kitsune was tough. The two little godlings had run the whole group ragged for the few hours they stayed.

He looked at the picture and slammed a stack of papers on top of it, the wild light dying from his eyes. "If you're here about that, it won't happen again. I needed money."

"You sold your blood, Loki." She was exhausted, though she'd done nothing and said little more. "If it had gotten into a human..."

"I said it won't happen again. Damn you, woman. I- I couldn't stand the feeling its in someone else's veins. Does that make you happy? Just please tell me you found it all so I can stop having nightmares about it."

She nodded. "We did. I'm sorry I had to bother you. Mother told don't was-"

He shuddered. "Don't call her that, Kagome! Not in front of me." The wild light was back in his eyes. "By the deepest levels of Valhalla, how have you stood being married to that blond idiot for so long?! You were one of the few I cherished. Your intellect and personality are so far beyond that bloodthirsty cretin I cannot think how anyone thought your joining was a good idea."

She wilted under the force of his desperate words. "It was the only way to bring the Makai into the TriWorld Alliance, Loki. I had two worlds looking to me to avert a war, I couldn't be selfish."

"Don't bullshit me. You were his sister-in-law centuries ago. No matter how much affection he felt for you, that didn't give him the right to arrange your marriage."

"Damn you, Loki!" Her eyes shimmered with rage and tears. "You are the stupidest smartest idiot I know! Sesshoumaru didn't make it a condition of the alliance _for_ me, he did it to _spite_ me!"

Loki reeled back. "What?" he managed to rasp out.

She grabbed her bag and pushed past him to the door. "It doesn't matter anymore. I'm married, have been for two interminable decades, and there's nothing here for me to find."

She rushed out the door, across the beach as quickly as she could, carefully wiping her eyes. S.H.I.E.L.D. agent or not, she was still the nominal Queen of Asgard; appearance mattered.

In her car, she took out the one other photo she had; Loki holding her tenderly in a carnival booth. The picture Sesshoumaru had found that enabled him to leave her miserable; carrying out the vendetta born when Inuyasha died to save her and their son.

Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to abandon lingering feelings. They'd have to stay with him, in that dreary trailer in the sand. She tore up the photo and drove away... not realizing she still clutched the pieces, creased and yellow, in her hands.

* * *

.

.

.

This is my favorite to date. I'm always singing the song now.


	5. Track 5: Dracula Moon

By now you should know the drill. Adult only. 1500 words. Language, racism, threesome mentioned.

.

.

.

Dracula Moon

* * *

Kagome slammed out of the house and ran to to rumbling Harley waiting for her at the curb. She snagged the helmet as she threw a leg over the saddle and poked the driver, wanting him to get going before this turned into an even bigger mess. She was just fastening the helmet when Steve tripped out of the house, demanding she come back and talk. She flipped him the bird as she and her ride speed off into the night.

Thirty-five miles down the road, they pulled into a twenty-four hour breakfast joint and went in to fuel up. Calling for an order of bacon and hashbrowns before they even sat down at a booth, she bent over and flipped her hair, ruffling it to counteract the helmet crush. Throwing the thick raven-black mess over her shoulders again, she slid into the booth.

"I can't believe I was idiot enough to hook up with someone like Captain Fucking America. What the hell was I thinking? The man is a Neanderthal!"

"What about the sex? Super soldier serum supported sex is surely..." Shippou trailed off his alliteration in disbelief. "I _know_ that look. You poor deprived soul! What was it, missionary? Every third Wednesday? Ten minutes between supper and laundry, with a pencil stub?"

"Why did I ever get you porn Clue? I so appreciate you announcing my months of inadequately endowed boy scout sex to the world." She buried her face in her hands before pushing her hair back behind her ears impatiently, temper still going strong.

"But really, do you remember how Americans were after the War? He's still stuck in that mindset! He even makes comments about 'you Japs' and how wonderful the marvelous Howard Stark was for ending it. Tony himself told Steve to lay off, that it made _him_ uncomfortable that people were still getting sick and dying young because of a weapon his dad made over sixty years ago." She exhaled noisily. "Of course, that's when he's not trying to prove the Shinto pantheon doesn't exist. Tonight I _finally_ realized he doesn't believe I'm the avatar for Inari."

"What about the immortal part? He's seen you recover from a mortal wound in hours-"

Her phone signaled another text... and reading it made her mad enough to want to toss the phone in the garbage, so she shoved it towards Shippou, letting him see what she'd been dealing with. "'Just let go, come back home?' The fuck's wrong with the bastard, putting it all on you?" he growled. "Why have you stuck with this guy for so long?"

She heaved a sigh and slumped down onto the table. "Because there just aren't a lot of nice, old-fashioned guys anymore." She saw a plump woman eying her hostilely, and she smiled nastily, happy to take her mood out on someone else. Just loud enough for the woman to hear, she motioned that way with her head and snarked, "Where are the bones on that one?"

_Oh boy. Dark Kagome's out for blood._ Shippou snatched a piece of bacon from the plate the waitress was unloading. "What if the cure is worse than the disease?"

She snorted. "Please. We all know that's true. Need to lose weight? Let's staple your stomach shut! But she was giving me the stink eye."

The waitress grinned. "She was... but just ignore her, she glares at all the women who come in with handsome men. Anything else for you guys?"

"Serve me up some pretty, pretty people and we'll watch her implode?" Sarcasm dripped like venom.

The waitress laughed. "If we had any pretty faces around here, I'd be ordering them myself. My name's Norah, just holler if you need me!"

Shippou smiled mischievously before changing his expression to a seductive, bedroom-eyed look. "Or instead of lots of pretties, maybe you just need one you can believe." He took her hand and kissed his way to her wrist before the phone began chirping constantly.

She grabbed the damn cell, thinking to turn it off for the night, but made the mistake of looking at the picture message first. Pissed, she called him back. "Steve! Stop. Shut up. I'm through. Stop feeling sorry for me... I hate that look on your face. No. It's none of your business. We're over. Fuck a monkey sideways! Fine. You want to know where I'm at? I'm falling from grace."

She cut off the call and hit silence. "Let's go, Shippou. I'm in the mood for a bender. Think you can score some sake from Dai-kun?"

"Human stuff can't touch you any more?"

"Nope," she popped the second syllable. "It's youkai brew or nothing."

Two hours later, they were in a cheap motel, listening to a lineup of old rock ballads and working through a third bottle. Shippou was entertaining himself changing into people he knew, and before he realized it, popped into Inuyasha's form. Kagome's eyes watered as she fumbled her way into his lap, reaching for the ears even knowing it was just illusion. When Shippou changed to himself, apologizing, she lifted her head and kissed him deeply.

"No worries," she whispered after she'd drawn back. "I knew it was you. But, yeah, I miss him too. I still have trouble believing I outlived him... and knowing I'll outlive you all because of that cursed jewel."

He looked down for a moment, then looked into her eyes. "I'm just as good, if not better, with _bunshin_ than you are with _shikigami_. I know tonight's not the best..."

She tugged off her shirt and dropped it to the floor, her bra following it. "I know about your fantasy." Threading her hands through his hair, she kissed him again, deep and wet. "And tonight's a good night, an excellent night for dreams to come true."

He pulled out an acorn, wrapped with a small bit of white hair collected from the shrine when time had finally circled back to her beginning. Forcing his youki into it, they both watched as it changed into a semblance of the hanyou they both missed.

The three stumbled to the bed, the night dissolving into the pleasant fog of sake and lust. Whispers and hands and skin sliding against skin. Lyrical moans and grunts, the slapping of damp skin, and cries of harder, harder, _harder_ with the occasional _keh_. And when she shattered onto the plateau, orgasms rolling right after another, the long missed cry of _Inuuuyashaaaaaa!_ delighted the fox before she passed out.

When she awoke, Shippou was holding her close to him, tucking her into shelter of his larger frame with his tails covering them both. He kissed her crown, mumbling an apology before handing her phone to her. "It keeps buzzing. Want me to deal with him?"

She shook her head. It was her fault for getting involved with someone who could never understand that darkness existed even in the purest heart. The only thing that mattered was how you dealt with it... something he didn't know how to do. Stark would understand before Steve ever did.

"Steve, it's over. No. I'm sorry, but if you'd look at our so called relationship, there's nothing left to repair. Gods, you're going to make me hurt you, aren't you." She shifted, tucking herself into Shippou's embrace. "Listen, then. I'm naked in a hotel room, making out with my one true love-" She snorted. "There's more than one way to love a ghost, Steve. As a priestess, I've got more options than most. Inari doesn't mind me falling from grace."

She growled, and shouted, "Fuck it, I can't live on a pedestal. I spent the past couple of hours in the arms of a friend and a _bunshin_ of my husband making this hotel room disappear. _And_ I was happier than I've been in months... I've decided I _like_ falling from grace."

She gave up on volume, and dropped her voice, "Gods of the heavens! Stop feeling sorry for me! I hate that... I know he's dead. _You_ don't understand the concept of mates and eternity... Steve, I told you... Love comes down any way it wants to. It doesn't ask for your permission, just demands you open up your arms or it will break you in two."

Shippou stole the phone from her. "You're never going to understand her, and I'm tired of seeing her try to explain it. I'm taking her away from you guys- you shiteating cocksucker! You think your little hero group can track me? Find a fox that wants to be hidden? I'm a fucking six-tailed kitsune, good luck with that. Read up on what my kind does to assholes like you while you're at it."

She watched, amused, as the phone smacked against the wall. "Where are we going?"

"If you leave the phone, anywhere you want. Choose a direction, north, south, east, west; hell, I'll even try for the moon. Just smile for me again, and I'll be smooth all over the world."

* * *

.

.

.

A relationship between Captain America and a Japanese woman is a much bigger stretch than most people believe. I knew a lot of WWII vets growing up. None of them were politically correct, and Jap was the least of the derogatory phrases they used. And no, they didn't consider it derogatory and would laugh at you for trying to explain it wasn't PC.

Shikigami- the little girls that helped Kikyou in Inuyasha, or Maru and Moro in xxxHolic.

Bunshin- Clones made like shikigami. Naraku's wooden puppets with a strand of his hair, for instance. Are exactly like the person they're made from (have actual bodies), only stop working when they're destroyed or the owner takes back their power.

If you haven't guessed, I use some of the song lyrics as dialog or scene settings, except for the last line. The last line of the song is always the last line of my story. It got very interesting this time.


End file.
